Tough
by A. Windsor
Summary: Yet another Pirate Children story. Set twentyeight years postBDM. A notsofluffy but still slightly fluffy look at the future. Serenity's adjusting to her grown children.
1. Part 1

Title: Tough

Rating: PG. For now, but it could bump up. Will bump up.

Characters: the whole crew, plus the Pirate Children and Alistair Caramia (the latter are mine, the rest are Joss's)

Pairings: Canon pairings. I will openly admit that I heavily, heavily favor Mal and Inara and the Reynolds Family.

Summary: Yet another Pirate Children story. Set twenty-eight years post-BDM. A not-so-fluffy (but still slightly fluffy) look at the future. Serenity's adjusting to her grown children.

Author's Note: This one's gonna be controversial. It's not light, it's not fluffy, and Serra is no longer cute and prococious. There are now twelve adults trying to live on Serenity and be useful. Abe's in medacad. And all will be revealed in time. This skips almost a decade from Hell-Raising and though the first chapter doesn't answer any more questions than it raises, details will either be filled in by the characters or by later PC fics.

For newbies:

Brother, Shadow, Mischief, Pirate Children, Hell-Raising (whew, that list is getting long)

Kacey Washburn, 27

Lolly Tam, 26

Abe Reynolds, 24 (medacad on Ariel)

Serra Reynolds, 19

Alistair Caramia (ladies don't reveal their ages)

* * *

Part 1

"Dress it up like ya like, empire is empire is Alliance," Serra says, holding the big, burly man's eyes steadily, and then takes a large sip of her mug of local brew.

"Gorrammit Mal," the man Serra calls Uncle Monty laughs thunderously, "Ya've raised yourself a right little Browncoat."

"Yeah, noticed that," Mal sighs, likewise nursing a beer. He looks uncomfortable at his daughter's political ramblings. "Wasn't working on it; just happened on its own."

"Despite my best efforts," Inara says from beside him, sipping on a much more girly drink.

Serra continues to discuss the state of the 'verse from her view, where the Independents went wrong and where they could go right. The whole thing scares Mal more than a mite. She sounds like he did before joining up, except a helluva lot more intelligent. Guess that's his punishment for marrying above himself and taking that Caramia tutor aboard. It's just strange for him: his genius son seems to have nothing particular against the Alliance, in fact is profiting from their fine higher education, studying medicine on Ariel. But Serra's always had a deep-seeded indignation against purple-bellies. "_They're taking our sky, Daddy,_" she used to tell him as a little girl whenever _Serenity_ got stopped by an Alliance patrol.

While Mal hasn't exactly made his peace with the Alliance, he's devoted himself to more personal matters ever since Miranda. He did his part in weakening the Alliance, now he's earned the right to wife and children and some semblance of stability. He doesn't understand how a little girl schooled by two Core-born ladies becomes a vehement Independent at nineteen. Mal has begun to regret kicking her off the boat for six months. He did it to help her assert her independence, not her Independence, but something happened in her wanderings, something she's never spoken of, that turned her completely against their government.

Serra checks her watch briefly. "Sorry, Uncle Monty. I'd love to continue the conversation later, but for now, I've gotta help Kacey and Aunt Zoe on a run." She extends a hand to the big man, who shakes her hand roughly as she rises.

"I'll hold you to that conversation, Mei-Mei. I'll buy ya another round when you get back."

"Monty, stop getting my daughter drunk. Look at her: she's tiny."

Serra smiles, sloppy like her father, then kisses her mother's temple before bidding farewell. She walks out of the bar, hand resting on the butt of the pistol strapped to her hip. Mal can't help the little thrill of pride that works its way into his heart. Serra Reynolds is not one easily messed with.

"You doin' any work of your own these days, Reynolds?" Monty teases. "Or just sendin' the younger, prettier version of you out? Did I mention smarter?"

"Hey," Mal says roughly, "She got half of her smarts from me. 'Sides, the boat'll be hers some time in the not-so-distant future."

"Not the boy?" Monty asks. "Ain't he much older?"

"Five years," Inara supplies. "He's at a medical academy in the Core right now."

"Ah, so he's gonna be a doctor. Well now, that's a mite more surprisin' than your little Browncoat. Word in the biz-ness is your little girl's quite the shot. You got Zoe teachin' her?"

"When I'm not looking," Inara smiles, noticing Mal's discomfort. She's not exactly happy about how well Serra takes to her father's profession, but she is coming to terms with it. Loving the daughter is much like loving the father, and once Inara fully convinced herself of that, things became easier between them. Inara deftly changes the subject. "So, Monty, how's your business?"

* * *

Mal eventually invites Monty back to _Serenity _for dinner, checking in with Wash in the cockpit while Inara and Ally prepare that night's meal.

"Everybody aboard?"

"Not yet, Captain," Wash says, just a trace of worry in his voice. "Zoe and the kids just checked in. They'll be here within five."

"They sound okay?"

"Kacey sounded peachy. Mei was cussin' up a storm, but that could mean anything."

Mal smirks a little. His little one does have a mouth like the true spacer she's grown into. He takes his leave and heads down the cargo bay, Monty's great laugh filling the halls of _Serenity_ while he talks to the ladies.

After a few minutes of securing cargo, the mule pulls up, Kacey at the helm. Zoe hops out as soon as her son parks the mule, extending a hand to Serra. Serra uses her aunt to get onto the edge of the mule and then hops down easily. Her right arm is held protectively against her chest, definitely injured, but there are no obvious bullet holes. A good run for Serra.

"You okay?" Mal calls, trying not to sound too concerned. He doesn't need her on his case about being an overprotective dad for the next week. She wants to be treated like an adult, like Aunt Zoe, and Mal's doing his best to accommodate her.

It's hard.

"Dislocated my elbow," Serra says with a cocky grin. She has a high pain threshold and barely winces when Kacey accidentally brushes past her.

"Hey, something smells good!" the young man grins, sniffing the air.

Serra rolls her eyes. "Uncle Simon aboard?"

"In the infirmary, I'm sure," Mal says, making his way over to her. He gestures to her arm, a silent question to see it. She nods, and he gently lifts it, wincing with her. "That's a right unnatural angle, daughter-mine."

"You should see the other guy's nose."

Mal shakes his head. "Run over to Simon, get it looked at. Mama and Ally are puttin' dinner on the table soon. Monty's here."

She grins at him and heads to the infirmary. He wants more for her than this, despite the pride he feels when she performs so well. She was supposed to be more than a "petty" crook like her old man, supposed to go off and be successful, like her big brother.

That's what half of him thinks.

The other half reminds him that he's been grooming her as his replacement since she started toddling, that he's raised her to be _Serenity_'s next captain. And he's known for a while that she's much darker than her brother and mama, saw it in her eyes as young as nine, underneath her carefree laughter and silly pranks. She killed her first man only three years ago, but shot her first man at twelve. She didn't flinch for a moment before or after her first kill, just protected her crew and kept going.

As he heads back up the stairs, he hears an incredibly colorful Mandarin curse echo from the infirmary, followed by: "_Aiya_, Uncle Simon! I thought you were supposed to put it back, not break it in half!"

Ten minutes later, they all sit down to dinner, Serra's slinged arm not slowing her down at all as she breaks into the meal. His women sit to his right and his left, mirror images of each other in looks but opposites in manner.

"So, Mei-Mei, what's the other guy look like?" Monty asks.

"Not a tenth as pretty," Serra grins, "Lonny thought he'd cop a feel while arguing down the price. I didn't take too kindly to that."

"Or his nose," Zoe adds with pride. "Smashed up real good. Blood everywhere."

"And his knee cap," Kacey offers. "And his…"

"Not at the dinner table," Lolly sighs, smacking Kacey lightly.

"Aww, Lolly, you're my favorite little prude."

"But no shooting," Serra assures her parents. "Didn't want to use undue force. Our relationship with the Karlen family will be fine. They want us to wave 'em when we get more of that funny spice from Sihnon."

"You're saying you beat the _go se_ out of Jorge Karlen's youngest boy, and they still want to deal in the future?" Mal asks. He's somewhat impressed.

"Business is business," Serra shrugs with her good shoulder. "Lonny Karlen was out of line. No one there disagreed."

"Completely out of line," Kacey nods with a playful grin towards his youngest "cousin". "I would've beat him up myself, Uncle Mal. If Mei hadn't beaten me to it."

"Lotta talk over there, Washburn," Serra says through a mouthful of protein.

"Not 'talk' if it's true, Mei. Pass the rolls."

* * *

Kacey, Lolly, and Serra have escaped their parents, hitting a little bar near the ship. Usually at this time of night, when they were on a world, the younger members of _Serenity_ (still called the kids even though Serra is nineteen and Kacey is twenty-six) would hit whatever nightlife there is to be found; frequent stops on Persephone make them regulars at a dance club near the Eavesdown docks. This little ball of dust, however, has nothing to offer besides a dingy little bar with barely decent beer. It is relatively crowded, not packed but not empty. The trio (finally used to being such) is camped by the bartender, reminiscing and trading jokes, most of them at their elder counterparts' expense.

"How about it, Kacey?" Lolly asks after downing the dregs of her beer. She hops off of the bar stool. "Game of billiards? Let's see if you've gotten any better since Beaumonde."

"The balls copped out on Beaumonde. Wasn't a fair game, Leila Lee."

"Then show me how to play, Killian Cobb," the youngest Tam shoots back cheekily.

"Hump you," Kacey responds, sliding his glass back towards the barkeep and waving off any attempts at another.

"_Aiya_, that's practically incest," Serra groans. "All manner of disturbing."

"Wanna join us, Mei-Mei?" Lolly asks.

Serra gestures to her broken wing. "I'm disabled, sorry."

"Wanna keep our wager, then?" Lolly questions. "Loser takes the winner's septic vac duties for a…"

"Month," Kacey says confidently.

"You must love those toilets, Kacey," Lolly laughs, kissing his cheek sisterly. She links her arm through his. "Let's go, flyboy. You're the ref, Mei-Mei!"

Serra nods her acknowledgement, slowly working on her second and final brew of the night. She has a fairly high alcohol tolerance for someone her size, but she _is_ 5'4" and 110 pounds. She prefers not to go home puking.

The hairs on the back of her neck tingle, alerting her that she's being watched. She glances surreptitiously behind her, searching for the watcher. She meets the brown eyes of a middle-aged woman over her right shoulder, but the woman's gaze quickly skitters away. Serra furrows her brow, studying the woman for any threat. The stranger's about fifty-five, hair obviously dyed red to hide any grays, with a face that must have once been beautiful but now was too tight, flawed by too many surgeries in attempts to recapture youth. She looks harmless, so Serra returns her attention to the pool game, still keeping an occasional eye on the woman as she watches Lolly do a victory dance after sinking a particularly nice shot.

The girl's perceptive. The woman likes that. She's been watching her, struck at first by how familiar her face is. It takes a few moments to place the face, and during that time the way the girl holds herself strikes the woman as well. That, too, is familiar, but from a different source. It is unsettling, until her brain processes the two together.

Could…? No…. Impossible. The sources she is thinking about would never… procreate? But the girl is extraordinarily similar to a certain Companion from the woman's past, a certain Companion the woman would much rather forget, but whose smirking face will remain ingrained in her memory forever, along with the memories of her year in an Alliance prison. And the set of her shoulders, relaxed but still on alert even with an arm slinged is reminiscent of...

There's a ruckus at the other end of the bar, and the girl turns around slowly, immediately analyzing the situation. Calling for her male friend over her shoulder, she calmly, arrogantly involves herself in the scene, where a local brigand seems to be harassing a young woman.

"I believe the lady asked you to leave her alone, buddy," the girl says, tapping the local boy on the shoulder.

Oh, she's definitely who the woman thinks she is. Only the descendant of Malcolm Reynolds would be stupid enough to get involved in such a thing, make such a high-handed, moral stand.

A fight breaks out, the one-armed girl and the man with her quickly dispatching of the young buck. The local girl thanks them, then disappears from the bar.

"_Aiya_, Serra Reynolds," the young man laughs, throwing an arm around her shoulder as the third member of their group joins them, "You are all kinds of trouble."

"Maybehaps we shouldn't mention this to the captain," the young woman says as they make their way to the door, "Or Aunt 'Nara."

Oh… this is definitely intriguing. The woman stands up quietly and trails the laughing trio back to their ship. As she follows them, she can hear the snippets of inane conversation, the young woman whining about the interruption to her billiards game and the young man crowing plenty about how he would have won. Their pace is meandering, but the girl, Serra Reynolds, is on alert, looking over her shoulder every few steps. Once she even stops her companions, hand on the gun at her hip, but the woman is still good enough at stealth and deception to remain undetected.

They approach the ridiculously old Firefly (the woman can't believe it's still able to fly) and as they're climbing the ramp, a bear of a man stumbles down, the young man steadying him before any havoc can be wrought.

"Careful, Uncle Monty!" the young man cries, laughing and clapping his back.

_Aiya_, who else from her past is going to show up?

"Monty!" an equally inebriated, equally familiar voice calls from the cargo bay, drunkenly walking to the top of the ramp. Mal Reynolds, gray and a little thicker than she remembers, leans heavily on the hull of the ship waving. "Pleasure havin' ya!"

The young man turns to the women at his right. "Heads for Monty, tails for the captain."

"I'll get my dad," Serra sighs, climbing up to Mal and pushing her good shoulder under his arm, steadying him. "C'mon, Daddy, let's get you to bed. Where's Mama?"

"Huh… Good question, Mei-Mei. Monty, you seen my wife?"

"Yeah, Malcolm, she's real pretty, I know…" Monty slurs back, leaning heavily on the young man.

"We'll find her," Serra says, a grin on her face this time, rolling her eyes. "Remember I'm a cripple now and hold on to my good shoulder. We're gonna take the steps really slowly, _dong ma_? Kacey, Lolly, can you get Uncle Monty?"

"We'll be right back, Mei," the young woman calls back.

"It was a shiny shindig you missed, baby-mine."

"We had some fun of our own. But let's get you into bed; we have a pick up across town in the morning, just you and me."

Mal smiles. "How'd I get so lucky?"

"By not puking on me. Because if you do, so help me, I will let you sleep on the catwalk. And then you'll fall to your death, and the boat'll be all mine."

"What'll ya tell yer mama?"

"Who says she'll be upset?" a new voice says. The observer can just barely hear them now, their voices echoing through the cargo hold as the daughter helps the father up the stairs. They look over to the source of the new voice, the mother in a deep blue robe on the catwalk outside of the shuttle. Time has been far kinder to the mother than the observer, especially from such a distance. The hate still boils inside of the woman.

"That's right, Daddy. Mama'd probably throw a party."

Their voices fade away. The woman begins to plan.

* * *

TBC 


	2. Part 2

Title: Tough

Rating: PG. For now, but it could bump up. Will bump up.

Characters: the whole crew, plus the Pirate Children and Alistair Caramia (the latter are mine, the rest are Joss's)

Pairings: Canon pairings. I will openly admit that I heavily, heavily favor Mal and Inara and the Reynolds Family. (Trying hard to rectify that without negatively affecting the storyline.)

Summary: Yet another Pirate Children story. Set twenty-eight years post-BDM. A not-so-fluffy (but still slightly fluffy) look at the future. Serenity's adjusting to her grown children.

Author's Note: Thanks for the great feedback! I'm so nervous about this one. It's pretty strange to write about the little ones when they're not so little.

Part 2

"How you feelin', Daddy?" Serra asks facetiously the next morning, as Mal slumps into his chair at the end of the breakfast table. The only occupants of the table are Serra and Lolly, who seem to be just wrapping up their morning meal.

"How do ya think?"

"Shiny," Serra grins, balancing mug and breakfast plate in her uninjured hand as she stands. "Can I get ya some coffee?"

"You need ta drink more alcohol."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"We'll get ya some coffee, Uncle Mal," Lolly grins with all of her mother's cheersomeness. Too many women on his boat. Too many happy, cheerful women.

"'Morning, Captain!"

And Washburns. Too many gorramn cheerful Washburns.

"Watch it, Kacey. The captain overdid it a little last night," Lolly grins as the young man takes a seat beside her.

"Yeah, I noticed. Barely got Monty home. Hey, Uncle Mal, if I promise to speak real quietly, can I talk to you about something?"

Serra plops, unceremoniously, a mug of coffee in front of Mal. Mal winces and then nods at Kacey. "Go ahead, lil' Washburn."

"I was talking with Monty and his first mate last night. Blake was sober. Anyway, they want to know if I can sign on for another six months or so."

Serra and Lolly's heads pop up to meet their cousin's, all sorts of abandonment in their eyes. Serra quickly looks away, suppresses her surprise and hurt, but Lolly continues to look at him with injured puppy eyes.

Kacey has signed on with Monty as a temporary pilot four times before, for a few months at a time. Lolly had likewise spent a few intermittent months on another cargo-liner out of Boros since her eighteenth birthday. Still, six months is a very long time to leave the two girls, especially since Abe doesn't finish medacad for another year.

Kacey sighs at the girls' response, "This isn't about abandoning you two."

"No, no," Lolly says, blue eyes still reflecting hurt. "It's about you going out joyriding for six months. Just 'cause Monty lets you pull all sorts of stuff Mom won't let you try on _Serenity_, 'less you blow the buffer panels like you did comin' down on Harvest."

"That was five years ago," Kacey shoots back. "It's about having three pilots and only two pilot seats, Lolly. And getting some sort of life away from our parents."

Mal's headache is growing. He takes a deep breath. "_Bi zui_. Kacey's a man, now. He decides to go where he wants and when, _dong ma_? You're all free to walk off this boat whenever you feel like it."

Serra snorts, meeting his eyes out of the corner of hers.

"'Slong as I know where you're goin', that is."

Serra clears Lolly's breakfast plates, slamming them into the sink, and making her exit.

"Gorramnit, Serra," Mal groans. This day is not going well. "Serra, get back here and talk about this." He sighs, downing the rest of his coffee. "Kacey, get me a date on when you're leavin'."

"Yes, sir," Kacey says quietly.

Mal stands and goes off looking for his daughter.

Kacey looks to Lolly. "I didn't mean to start a fight…"

"Not talking to you," Lolly informs him, storming off in the direction of the engine room.

* * *

"If you're pissed at me, fine, but keep it to yourself. We got a job to do," Mal says, frustrated, leaning against the bulkhead while waiting for Serra to come out of her bunk. She rolls her eyes at him as she emerges from the room, pistol strapped to her hip, arm still in a sling, mumbling in Spanish under her breath.

"Whoa, now. I speak two gorramn languages. You're gonna insults me, do it in one 'a' those."

"How do you know I'm insulting you?" she asks facetiously, walking alongside him as they head to the cargo bay.

"I been around it long enough to get the jist."

"Sir, can I talk to you?" Zoe grabs him on the catwalk before Serra can bite back with a sarcastic remark.

Mal nods, a little thankful for the break. "Mei-Mei, prep the mule, _dong ma_?"

"_Of course_, Captain."

She hops down the stairs without so much as a glance behind.

"She's gonna be the death of me, Zoe," Mal sighs.

"Possibly, sir."

"What do you need?"

"Wash and I are gonna be off ship all afternoon."

"What for?"

"Look at some land, sir." Her face is expressionless, though Mal begins to gape, headache growing.

"Dirt-kissin', Zoe? What the hell for?"

"Nothing definite yet. We're all gettin' old, sir, in case you hadn't noticed. Not so needed around here anymore."

"Not needed? Wash is the best gorramn pilot I've ever seen."

"But only one of three on this boat. An' the other two are more'n capable."

"And you? What about you? I still need you."

"Do you really, sir?" she asks, looking down to the mule, where Serra packs away a few extra guns with the help of a limping Jayne, laughing at something the aging merc says.

Mal swallows, guiltily, playing the last three years worth of jobs in his head. "Zoe…"

"It's okay, Mal. We're all tired, old. It's gettin' time to move on. I know the Teach is itchin' to set down somewhere. She's a smart girl, wastin' away on students who've outgrown her."

"Girl," Mal scoffs a little, laughing more at his own self than what Zoe's saying. "She'll be forty in a couple months."

"See what I mean, sir?"

"Let's go, old man! We've got a schedule to keep."

Mal gives a tight, fake smile. "Such a pleasant child. Be back by nightfall."

"So slow!" Serra yells up the stairs.

"So _fong luh_."

"I'm driving," she claims, climbing into the mule.

"Like hell. I'd like to live through the day."

He bumps her over to the passenger seat.

* * *

He's not sure how it happens. Maybe he is still in a distracted, terrible mood after his conversations with Zoe, with Kacey. Maybe he is still hung over. It isn't the pick-up; that went fine, upfront coin in his pocket, mule loaded with illegal rations en route to Bernadette.

And then it somehow falls apart.

They fall into an argument about "chasing them all away" and, as he is wont to do with the women in his life, Mal sticks his foot in his mouth.

"Don't know what you're grumblin' about. You spent the whole time holed up on pretty Core-worlds or humpin' your farm boy on Shadow."

"Pull over." Her voice is deadly quiet, deadly serious.

"What? No."

"Pull the _guay_ over. Now."

It's the tone of voice she's learned from her mother, the one that after over twenty-five years has him conditioned to obey without thinking. He stops long enough for her, slinged arm and all, to hop over the side of the mule and onto the street.

"Be back by sundown!"

"_Puñetero._" (Jackass, in Spain)

"I'm serious! We _will_ leave without you."

Mal watches her disappear into the crowd and curses, turns the mule towards _Serenity_.

"Where's Serra?" Inara asks as Mal grumpily pulls the mule into the cargo bay.

"Yeah, you finally sell her off? We could use the extra coin," Jayne grins, hauling a crate off of the back of the mule and stacking it in the smuggler's hold. His leg is still recovering from his recent spill off the back of the mule when fleeing a job gone south. Simon says, due to his age, it will never return to full use.

"She took a walk," Mal grunts, climbing out of the mule and stretching out his neck.

"Alone?"

"She's a big girl; it's a small town. She'll be back… I hope."

"You hope?" Inara asks skeptically. "What did you do?"

"Why's it gotta be me? She's just as difficult."

"Hey, Uncle Mal," Lolly bounces down from the engine room. "Where's Mei?"

Mal huffs and blows past his niece, leaving her to look questioningly to her aunt.

"Hey, Sparky," Jayne greets, a subtle undercurrent of gruff affection. "They're fightin' again. Worse'n you and the cap'n, 'Nara."

"Only recently," Lolly comments, hopping down the rest of the stairs to aid Jayne in the stowing while Inara removes the bag of coin from the front console of the mule. "An' things were finally looking better after you and Mei got back, Aunt 'Nara."

Always the optimist, like her mother.

"That's just 'cause he's gettin' humped regular again."

"Oh God, Jayne. Can we _please_ not talk about that?" Lolly asks, making a face.

Jayne shrugs. "Where's lil' Cobb?"

"I'm not talking to him," Lolly says, a little petulantly.

"Don't mean you don't know where he is."

"Try his room. Or the cockpit."

His room. When had it become just his room? When Abe went to medacad three years ago? Or later, when he'd been gone for awhile and Serra stopped looking heartbroken every time someone mentioned her brother?

Funny, Lolly thinks, that the one of them who's changed the most is the one most resistant to change.

"You think she'll be okay out there?" Lolly asks Inara. "You want me to go look for her?"

Inara wants to say yes to the latter question but refrains, makes herself smile.

"She'll be fine," she says, heading up to the shuttle. "She's Serra."

Which means she's a trouble magnet, Lolly keeps to herself, but otherwise fairly capable and often scary as hell.

It's one of her worst memories. It gives her nightmares at night, makes her shudder if she thinks on it during the day. Growing up on _Serenity_ means growing up around guns; there is no denying that. There is also a fair amount of violence. Abe slit Adelai Niska's throat when he was only fifteen. Kacey was allowed to carry a gun and help with jobs when he was sixteen, and his first kill came a year or two later. Lolly declines to carry a weapon but knows how to use one as well as several basic self-defense moves. Because of this, she doesn't generally go on jobs.

Serra's been carrying a pistol on her hip for four years now, but shot a man in the leg seven years ago, at the age of twelve. A man who was attacking Lolly, the older girl, the one who at eighteen should've been doing the protecting.

But the man never touched Lolly, so that isn't what gives her nightmares. No, it's that Serra shot the guy in the leg without batting a pretty little eyelash. Brought him down, then told Lolly to come on, they had to get back to the ship.

Twelve.

Just doesn't seem right to Lolly. The shooting was well and good and an unfortunate but necessary part of their lives, and she didn't kill the man. But Abe was in shambles after killing Niska, and Kacey had his own little break down after the first time one of his bullets hit a real person.

Serra told everyone what happened, handed the gun (nicked off the assailant, the kid had the deft hands of a pickpocket) to Jayne, and went along with the day. Inara was horrified, and even Mal was a little disturbed by his baby girl's reaction. Horrified and disturbed, yes, but Lolly is pretty sure neither was surprised. Lolly herself, while understandably upset by witnessing this, was not _surprised_ that of all of them, Serra was the youngest to use a gun. Still, in keeping up with precedent, Serra wasn't allowed to start carrying a sidearm until she was fifteen, which is when Abe started.

There were fights, intense fights, between the captain and Inara about Serra's first shot, and Lolly is sure that her predilection to pickpocket was brought up, as well. To this day, Mal denies teaching her how to steal people's wallets without their noticing. But Lolly guesses that they came to some sort of agreement, because Serra started training intensely with Aunt Zoe around her thirteenth birthday, beyond the normal gun training and target practice each of them had engaged in before.

So Serra remains unaffected, and Lolly is left with the nightmares. Lolly must admit that's a trend.

* * *

TBC 


	3. Part 3

Title: Tough

Rating: PG. For now, but it could bump up. Will bump up.

Characters: the whole crew, plus the Pirate Children and Alistair Caramia (the latter are mine, the rest are Joss's)

Pairings: Canon pairings. I will openly admit that I heavily, heavily favor Mal and Inara and the Reynolds Family. (Trying hard to rectify that without negatively affecting the storyline.)

Summary: Yet another Pirate Children story. Set twenty-eight years post-BDM. A not-so-fluffy (but still slightly fluffy) look at the future. Serenity's adjusting to her grown children.

Part 3

"How do ya feel about filicide?" Mal huffs, throwing himself onto the couch in their shuttle.

"Are we speaking in general or just a certain case?" Inara asks, calmly, not looking up from her reading.

"Our daughter. I'm gonna kill her. I'm gonna run out there, find her, drag her ass back here, and then kill her."

"I'd prefer if you didn't," Inara says, just as nonchalant as before. "The killing part, I mean. If you feel the need to go look for her, I won't try to stop you."

"You ain't worried about her?"

"Of course, I'm worried about her, Mal," Inara sighs, finally looking up at him. "But she's nineteen years old and can take care of herself for an afternoon. She did well enough for six months without us."

"Did she? I wouldn't know, 'cause the two of ya won't tell just what happened while she was gone."

"I don't know all of it myself," Inara objects, putting down the book. "And that's her story to tell. You know my part of it."

Mal feels the ache of that in his chest, of the fights that were worse than they had been in decades, the words that came out that could have, should have ruined everything. Watching her walk off his boat for a second time, and if the first time nearly killed him, he shouldn't be alive now. The second time was after twenty-five years of marriage and two children who also jumped ship.

They fought over Serra's long absence, which Inara took harder than any of them.

"_You agreed to this."_

"_I agreed that she needed some time away from _Serenity_, that she needed space to grow and be her own person. But I was thinking more along the lines of a few months on Shadow or Sihnon, or even another ship. Somewhere where I would know where she was, where I would know if she were lying dead in a gutter!"_

"_I didn't kick her off this ship! She left on her own, without telling any of us."_

"_Because you made her feel like she wasn't welcome."_

"I _made her feel... How about we try that again? _We _made her feel…"_

And so it went, night after night. Mal took to sleeping on the couch or in the cockpit or in the empty passenger dorms, anywhere to avoid the evenings' requisite fights. When they weren't fighting, they weren't speaking, and that was even worse. They'd had bad patches before, but this was the worst, worse than the two-week cold war following the first time Mal took Abe on a job, despite Inara's objections.

It wore on both of them, the absence of their children, one of whom was incommunicado and the other wrapped up in medical studies, and they continued to pick and snipe at each other, until Mal let loose that certain w-word he had long since erased from his vocabulary, and Inara walked off with a suitcase the next day.

And Mal was alone.

He doesn't like to think about the month he spent without his wife and children, stomping around _Serenity_, letting loose the beast their presence usually tamed, alienating the rest of his family. Sometimes he can pretend it never happened.

Six months ago, Serra and Inara walked back onto his boat, back into his life. Made him whole again.

Except while he is now whole, Serra came back with something missing, from her eyes, from her smile. She has been a living paradox to Mal for most of her adolescent years, in equal measures light and dark, the ability to smile and laugh and tease innocently, but not flinch when shooting someone point blank, not refrain from what is necessary, no matter what, for the family. The dark's still there, her brown eyes still haunted as they once only occasionally were, but the light's so much dimmer.

He feels Inara's fingers on his wrist, bringing him back to the present. She's still so beautiful it hurts. Not ageless, but age-resistant. If she had lived out her years in the comforts of House Madrassa, she still wouldn't look a day over thirty. But life is tough in the Black, it takes from you and gives nothing back. But not all of those scarce lines are from worries or frowns; they're from smiles and laughter, from the great things this life has given them: a large, loving family, two beautiful, brilliant, sometimes exceedingly tough children, and enough to make ends meet, generally.

"She'll be back by nightfall. She's angry, not stupid."

"Sometimes they're the same thing. I just wish she'd tell me what happened, why those six months are such a touchy subject."

"Aside from the obvious?"

Mal meets her eyes. "Well, yeah, 'part from that."

"Maybe she will, in her own time."

Mal grunts, nods. "She's not back by nightfall, I'm goin' after her."

* * *

Serra knows how to spot an easy mark. He (or she) has to be arrogant, arrogant enough to show their wealth in public, flaunt it without fear of losing it. He generally doesn't pay attention to what is going on around him, so caught up is he in his self-congratulation. Those types don't notice her fingers slipping into their pockets as they bump in the street. Serra also has a natural advantage with those who tend towards womenfolk, and even a few who don't. Her beauty, inherited from her mother, is the kind that kicks people in the gut, even as dressed down as she often is.

Serra searches for such a mark now, if only to take her mind off of her father's words. They are partially true, of course. She spent a significant amount of time in the Core, first on Ariel with Abram for a month, then finishing her six months of wandering with two weeks on Londinium with Sue Ling, meeting Noor, and six weeks with the Serras on Sihnon. And a large amount of time in the middle was spent on Shadow, with Ari Westgate, the young man Mal calls her "farm boy", childhood friend of her cousins. But not all of her time away was leisurely.

Pushing those memories aside, Serra scans the crowd one last time, she finds her mark and starts across the midday rush of the bar towards an unsuspecting local businessman, whose wallet bulge is just begging to be lifted off of him. He's leaning against the bar, talking friendlily with the barkeep and downing what looks to be his second beer. Serra sidles up along the bar as well, nodding familiarly to the tender and asking politely for a mug of cider. She feels her mark's eyes on her, studying her from top to bottom and lingering in the middle, and she knows she has him. Pointedly ignoring him, she smiles sweetly at the bartender when she accepts her drink and passes coin across to him.

As she turns away from the bar, she spills the entire mug onto the man's shirt and trousers. Feigning horror, she hurriedly grabs a towel from the barkeep and tries to dry her mark off, apologizing profusely in the face of the man's mix of surprise, anger, and embarrassment. He finally fights her "advances" off after a long pause considering his options with this pretty little lady, never noticing the loss of his billfold until long after she tosses an apologetic smile over her shoulder and sneaks out the back door.

Leaning against the wall in the dusty alley just a block away from the bar, she smiles and checks out her spoils. A mediocre take, not terrible but certainly not exciting. Eyeing two urchins huddling by a dumpster on the opposite side of the street, Serra removes the bills from the wallet and tosses the leather into the trash, making eye contact with the scared street children (a little boy and what looks to be his younger sister) as she lays most of the money a few steps away from them, then backs up. They scramble for the money and take off down the alley, disappearing from view.

She hears a slow applause behind her. Her hand drops to the pistol on her hip, flipping off the safety and slowly beginning to draw it.

"Bravo, Robin Hood," a sultry voice purrs. Serra turns to face the woman, leveling her gun at her and cocking it when she recognizes her as the woman from last night.

"Now, now. Put that away… I was just complimenting you. Do you do that often? Take from the rich and give to the poor. Did you learn that from your father? And obviously your mother's skills as a whore rubbed off on you as well."

The shot takes the woman by surprise. She feels the bits of rock flying from the wall next to her stinging her flesh. This makes things even more interesting. It seems she's hit on quite the touchy subject.

"You'd do well to keep my mama out of this," Serra says, and the woman notes for the first time the lack of twang in the girl's accent. Rim-slang, less-than-conventional contractions, and elongated vowels in 'mama', but other than that she speaks perfect Core English. "And don't start to think for a moment that I didn't miss on purpose. Identify yourself. And you should probably try to give me a good reason not to shoot you while doing so."

The woman raises her hands, concedes temporary defeat.

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down. I'm not trying to hurt you…"

This shot kicks up the dirt by her feet.

"Quit the patronizing _go se_, lady. Tell me your name and how you know my parents."

"My name isn't important, but I am your father's first wife."

The woman is on Serra before the next shot can go off, elbowing her injured arm quickly and kicking the gun away. Serra hisses a little with the pain, but quickly represses it.

"Just leveling the playing field," Yosaffbridge claims, backing away from Mal's daughter and putting her foot on the pistol. "I see you've heard the story. I am not going to hurt you anymore than you give me reason to, sweetie. I was just admiring your handy-work. Did Daddy teach you to pickpocket on lazy Sundays?"

"Kinda just picked it up," Serra shrugs, nonchalance slipping back into place.

"Yes, life you lead, I imagine you would. So, you're fighting with Daddy now. I guess it's only natural. He's a pain in the _pi gu_, isn't he? All those high, lofty morals a girl has to live up to… And such a hypocrite."

Serra snorts, one eye always on Saffron, the other scanning her surroundings. "Some could see it that way. Usually I just think he's an ass. Cut the small talk. Are you approaching a point anytime soon? I have moody teenage moping to do and you're kinda cutting into my time."

"Not a point," Saffron says, giving up the vein of conversation. "A job."

"Already have one of those. Now I'd like to leave, if I could have my gun back. It's a favorite."

"Not until you hear me out, Serra Reynolds. That man in there, the one whose money you just liberated, is in the middle of a spat with the one local bank. He withdrew all his money in cold, hard coin. Real precious metal. Now he's put it in a safe in his room. And not a particularly strong safe."

Serra loops the thumb of her loose arm into her belt loop, studying the woman for traces of treachery. There's something off about her, but so far she seems to have been telling the truth.

"So?"

"He took a real liking to your… assets back there, and he has no idea that you're the one who lifted his money. You use that. You get in, you get the coin, we split it down the middle."

Serra laughs. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen. From the Lassiter to some backwater business man."

"A year in an Alliance prison cell puts a damper on your appetite," Saffron bites back, too caught in her own bitter memories to see the brief flash of stricken emotion across Serra's face. "Are you in or not?"

"What's the take?" Serra asks, knowing that Saffron will swindle her at the first chance she gets, but thinking that bringing that coin and this story back to her dad will be a nice way of sticking it to him a little.

"Twelve times what you gave away to those little urchins."

Serra nods. A decent take. "And why the rut are we going fifty-fifty? I'm not seeing you doing anything, old lady. What do you need me for anyway? From what I hear…"

Saffron's eyes flash angrily. "Age is a bitch, baby-girl; you might as well get used to that. And I get half because I brought the job and I'm doing the dirty work of distracting the local authorities."

"Seventy-thirty," Serra says. "And that's a generous offer considering I could walk off right now and take it without you getting involved at all."

"Sixty-forty and I don't go to the cops. I'm fairly certain you've racked up your fair share of misdemeanors flying on that piece of _go se_. Maybe even a few felonies. And you especially don't want the cops searching _Serenity_, now, do you?"

Serra narrows her eyes, considering. "Deal. Can I have my gun back now?"

"Are you going to shoot me?"

"Depends on how well-behaved you are."

"Sweetheart, I _need_ you," Saffron pouts, "I'm not going to hurt you." She kicks the gun over to Serra, who dusts it off and holsters it. "What happened to your arm?"

"Someone stepped out of line."

"Well, it doesn't seem to slow you down. You were a gem back there. Did your mother teach you seduction and the other arts of whoring…"

Saffron should know that the punch is coming, but lets her contempt for Inara Serra override her judgment. The force of the blow knocks her onto the dusty alley ground, and her jaw stings as she shakes the stars out of her head. She looks up at the girl leaning over her, gun drawn, face set in stone cold anger.

"Let's get one thing straight. That was your second chance: you won't get a third. I've broken better humans' noses for lesser insults. You even _mention_ my mother again and I will _not _hesitate to shoot you between the eyes, _dong luh ma_?"

Saffron is taken aback by the fury in the girl's dark eyes and eyes the gun barrel warily. "I understand. You've got mother issues; the topic is closed."

Serra holsters the gun violently and says wearily. "Get up. And one other thing. Stop with the gorramn pet names. You're not family, and I don't generally lean towards women. And even if I did, I definitely wouldn't lean towards a dried up has-been like you."

Saffron should have known then that she was losing the upper hand.

* * *

TBC 


	4. Part 4

Title: Tough

Rating: PG-13. For swearing (Firefly) and violence.

Characters: the whole crew, plus the Pirate Children and Alistair Caramia (the latter are mine, the rest are Joss's)

Pairings: Canon pairings. I will openly admit that I heavily, heavily favor Mal and Inara and the Reynolds Family. (Trying hard to rectify that without negatively affecting the storyline.)

Summary: Yet another Pirate Children story. Set twenty-eight years post-BDM. A not-so-fluffy (but still slightly fluffy) look at the future. Serenity's adjusting to her grown children.

Author's Note: A shorter chapter, but full of important action. One more chapter to go. I know some of you are a little put off by the reemergance of YoSafBridge, but I want to point out that it's not like she was stalking them for twenty-five years. This is more a crime of convenience. And as Serra said last chapter: "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

Part 4

"What is he doing?" Kacey asks, leaning against the wall next to Lolly up on the catwalk. The captain is staring at the sinking sun, occasionally pacing back and forth. "He and Aunt 'Nara get in another fight?"

While Mal and Inara's fights, legendary among the crew, were once the subject of many jokes and laughs, everyone on _Serenity _has been taking them a little more seriously recently.

Lolly just looks at him out of the corner of her eye, recrossing her arms over her chest, face on the border between hurt and contempt.

"Aw, c'mon, Lol… You have to talk to me at some point. This is a small boat, and sooner or later you're gonna have to ask me to pass the salt."

Lolly humphs a little and walks off.

"Real grown up, Leila Lee!"

"Real_ly_ grown up," a voice corrects behind him, teasing admonishment in her voice. "Please try to make it seem like I taught you _something_ in the nearly twenty years I've been aboard. Otherwise you make me feel entirely useless."

"Hi, Ally," Kacey greets his former tutor, and as Lolly and Serra so love to bring up, Abe's and his first love.

"I've heard the girls are none-too-pleased with you at the moment."

Kacey sighs and shrugs.

"Don't worry. I'll soon take the attention away from you; I'm in the market to get off myself."

Kacey leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. "It can't stay the same forever, no matter what Serra wants. It hasn't been the same, especially since Abe went to Ariel. It's not natural that we're all still here."

"You don't have to explain it to me," Ally assures him.

"Why are you still here, Al?"

Ally smiles, lightly. "Where would I go, Kacey? Up until last year, I had a steady job and a family, all in the same place. Why would I leave?"

"Once you've reached _Serenity_, you can never get out," Kacey paraphrases his mother with a soft sigh.

"That's not exactly it. I care about you all, especially you, Lolly, and the Reynolds."

"And you're still here because Serra's gone off her rocker?"

"The Mei-Mei is not crazy," Ally laughs gently. "She and the captain are just trying to figure out what roles they're playing now. It's a power struggle. I'm still here because it's hard to leave family."

"Mom and Dad want to leave, too. And Lolly says her parents could be close behind… It's just time, you know?"

"I don't think it will ever be time for Serra or Mal. Their very idea of themselves is tied to _Serenity_. Pancakes to cheer you up?"

Kacey grins. "I'm not seven any more."

"Which has no effect on whether or not pancakes will cheer you up."

"You're bribing me with food."

"Very astute observation."

* * *

"Getting your daily exercise in, Captain?" Wash smiles as he and Zoe walk up the ramp, interrupting Mal's pacing.

Mal grumbles in return.

"Somethin' wrong, sir?"

Mal just grunts again, eyes on the position of the sun. Zoe and Wash climb the stairs after shared shrugs, finding Inara leaning against the railing, watching her husband.

"What's going on?" Wash asks., no longer quite so jovial.

"Mal and Serra fought during the job," Inara states. "She's supposed to be back by sundown. He's been pacing since the sun hit the tops of the buildings. How was _your_ day?"

"Not as exciting as yours," Wash says, fairly disappointed. "Was there yelling? Did he turn red?"

"I don't know; it wasn't here." Inara looks caught between resignation and desolation. "Did you find anything interesting?"

"Not on this rock," Zoe sighs. "Still looking, though."

Inara nods, understanding, and the first mate senses a bit of panic in her eyes, a flash of "You're leaving me alone? With _this_?"

The sun gives a final heave before sinking beneath the horizon. Mal hops into the mule and peals off.

Inara closes her eyes and sighs. "We should probably start dinner before we lift off."

* * *

"Here's your cut," Serra says, handing over a bag of jingling coin in the same alleyway where they first met. She keeps her eyes on Saffron the whole time, waiting for the backstab. Saffron takes the bag daintily, setting it by her feet. Serra doesn't take the bait. "You walk out first."

"And let you shoot me in the back? No way, honey."

"I have my money. Why would I kill you?"

Saffron rolls her eyes. So much like her father.

"We'll both back away slowly. And you keep that hand off that pistol."

Canvas bag slung across her back, Serra begins to back up towards the main road, eyes still on Saffron, hands obviously away from her hip.

"There you are," a voice shakes her concentration, a hand landing on her shoulder roughly. By the time she can look back down the alley, Saffron is gone. "What part of sundown don't you understand?"

"Gorramnit, Dad," Serra curses, twisting out from under her father's grip and turning her back to him, searching the surrounding area for any sign of Saffron.

Mal feels the bag on her back, feels its weight.

"Where the hell did you get this? You know what? I don't even want to know right now. Get your _pi gu_ into the mule. We'll talk about it once we're in the air."

"Dad, wait. We have to talk… We can't go right back."

"We have to. A schedule, remember?"

"But Daddy…"

"_Bi zui_."

Serra humphs a little, scanning the area around her as he zooms back toward _Serenity_. Saffron's not going to let her get away with this much money.

* * *

"It's terrible, Abe," Inara sighs, viewing her son through the Cortex screen. The fuzziness of the screen doesn't mask his attractiveness, full head of sandy brown hair and dark brown eyes, full lips that stretch into a charming smile, a self-assurance that has always been present but has full bloomed in his years on Ariel.

"What's happened now?"

"They pretend like everything is like it was before, where they can bicker and be fine by dinner. But they are hurting each other deeper now, and…"

"Covering a hole doesn't make it go away," Abe finishes, understanding. "They've never dealt with the original problem: they're the same person at different points in life."

"Those psychiatry classes are doing you well. Ally will be proud," Inara smiles sadly, missing him now more than ever, the little boy-turned-man who understands so much. "I don't know how to help them."

"Lock them in a room until they've either killed each other of come to an agreement," Abe grins wickedly. "I'm sorry, Mama. I really wish there was something I could do from here. I'll talk to Serra next time I wave, but I have to go to class."

"Of course. Don't let me keep you from your studies."

"I'll call in a few days. Eila says hello, by the way."

"I'll pass that along to Serra."

"Love you, Mama."

"_Wo ai ni_."

As she cuts the connection, she hears the whine of the mule and raised voices in the cargo hold.

* * *

"Daddy, if you'd just listen for a…"

"No. I'm at my wits' end with you today, Serra. We're getting this boat in the air, and until then I don't wanna hear anything from you, _dong ma_?"

"But, it's important…"

"Maybe you should listen to her, Captain," come a voice from the bottom of the ramp.

Mal turns to see Saffron walking towards them, gun in hand.

"_Wo duh ma_."

"Told you so."

"No talking!"

"No wonder she's rebellious, Mal… She's your child, not your soldier. And drop the gun. I have an excellent shot lined up on your little girl. You, too, Serra. I've had enough of that gun today."

"Forgive me if I'm not quick to take parenting advice from you," Mal shoots back, reluctantly dropping his sidearm to the ground, hopefully with a loud enough clank to get the attention of the rest of the crew. Serra follows suit, but not until after she shoots him a hateful glare. He shoots one right back at her. "So I'm guessin' that's how you got the money. Working with this piece of _go se_?"

"Money's money, and I was about to get away clean with it until you showed up and humped the whole thing up. I did the job, quick and clean, with a shiny penny to show for it. If you would've listened to me for a gorramn second I could've told you that she was aiming to take it all for her own and we wouldn't be in this position."

"And if you weren't so busy pitchin' a hissy fit…"

"Hissy fit?! I'm sorry, do you remember what you said to me?"

"Nothin' that weren't true!"

"Stop it," Saffron says, bored. "Just hand over the money… And the mule for good measure. Compensation for my troubles."

"Excellent, Serra, thank you… This was just the end I needed to this day… Did you know that, on top of losing one pilot, I'm about to lose another, permanently. Yes, Serra, there are things more important going on than your teenage hormones!"

"_Bi zui_, old man. You're just pissed that I can operate on my own. I don't _need you_ anymore."

"No, I _wish _that were true, but you've pretty much proved today how much a kid you still are. I really thought you'd grown up. I just want to know what the _guay_ happened to you when you were off this boat."

"You had it mostly right. Humpin' on Shadow…"

Mal grimaces, both at the words and the imagery.

"Shut up!" the increasingly irritated Saffron cries, frustrated that the attention has moved away from her, despite the deadly weapon in her hand. This is all spinning out of control, far quicker than she would have liked it. Right now she'll stand for just getting the money and mule, her ticket off this rock.

"Cushy Core worlds," Serra continues, ignoring the exasperated sigh from the woman with the gun. "Just left one integral part out… The six weeks I spent in a gorramn Fed jail."

"You what?!" Mal roars. "You an' your mama couldn't see fit to…"

He's interrupted by the echo of a gunshot. He looks around to see where it came from, turning to see Saffron holding the smoking gun. He hears a soft moan and looks down, horrified to see his daughter collapsing in front of him, blood seeping from a belly wound.

"_Tianna_, Serra," he breathes, collapsing to his knees, hand on her stomach to stem the bleeding.

A second, louder blast rips through the cargo bay. The bullet hits an advancing Saffron in the shoulder, sending her to the ground.

"Simon!" Mal screams, not even bothering to see where the second shot came from, feeling his little girl's sticky blood pumping against his hands. "Simon! Gorramnit, Doc! We've got a belly wound down here."

He hears shouting and footsteps, but his whole world is focused on Serra, on keeping her alive long enough for Simon to get there, on her open eyes and shallow breathing, the way she's barely groaning with the pain. He removes her healing left arm from the sling to allow Simon better access to the wound when he gets there. Serra grimaces a little as he jostles her while doing this, but remains fairly quiet.

"Daddy," Serra says, voice weak but resolute, eyes glassy with the shock. His eyes snap up to meet hers as he tries to ignore the fact this is his _baby girl_ whose blood covers the cargo bay. "Daddy, can I make it?"

* * *

TBC 


	5. Part 5

Title: Tough

Rating: PG-13. For swearing (Firefly) and violence.

Characters: the whole crew, plus the Pirate Children and Alistair Caramia (the latter are mine, the rest are Joss's)

Pairings: Canon pairings. I will openly admit that I heavily, heavily favor Mal and Inara and the Reynolds Family. (Trying hard to rectify that without negatively affecting the storyline.)

Summary: Yet another Pirate Children story. Set twenty-eight years post-BDM. A not-so-fluffy (but still slightly fluffy) look at the future. Serenity's adjusting to her grown children.

Author's Note: The final chapter. Longer. Hopefully something by way of resolution. Enjoy. Earlier, fluffier stuff will probably be next. I miss Abey. :)

Part 5

"River, prep the infirmary," Simon shouts orders as he slides to his knees next to Mal and Serra. "Lolly, bring me an IV."

He scans the room quickly to assess the threat level beyond the stomach wound oozing blood everywhere. This is a skill he's picked up in his years on _Serenity_. He sees Zoe, Jayne, and Kacey crowded around the second gunshot victim, Vera trained on… Saffron?!... whose arms Zoe is tying behind her back and whose shoulder seems to have been hit by a shotgun bullet. Not a life-threatening wound, if she doesn't bleed to death.

"Zoe, put some pressure on that," Simon calls over, before turning his attention to Serra. She's fighting off the shock well, but she won't be able to last much longer. They need to get her into the infirmary as soon as he starts the IV. Which will be harder than it sounds. Lolly skids to a halt beside him, handing him the needle and bag of blood replacement.

"Oh God," she whispers, viewing the blood surrounding Mei-Mei, and steps back.

"Okay, Serra," Simon says in his most soothing voice possible. "I've got to put this…"

"No needles," Serra groans, closing her eyes against the pain.

Simon knows that was coming. The youngest crewmember on _Serenity_ has an intense phobia of needles.

"No. Needles."

"You know that's not possible, Mei-Mei."

"C'mon, baby-mine," Mal begs as Serra begins to thrash away from Simon. "We've gotta do this."

Simon closes his eyes, sighs, and wishes Abram were here. They'll have to go for the next best thing.

"Inara! We need you down here."

He and Mal scan the cargo bay for Serra's mama, who has yet to make an appearance. They find her on the catwalk overhead, shotgun in hand, the one Mal taught her to shoot so many years ago for just such an occurrence as now.

"Inara," Simon tries again, louder, shaking the mother from her shocked daze, "I need to put an IV in. We need you down here."

Within moments, Inara joins them, withholding her tears. She sits on her knees by Serra's head, holding it still and whispering soft assurances.

"Stop it, Mei-Mei. Look at me. Everything's going to be fine, just fine. You won't feel a thing. Meet my eyes. There we go, baby…"

Dazed brown eyes meet teary brown eyes. Serra's thrashing stops. Simon lets out a soft sigh, slipping the IV in the arm Mal holds down for him with a bloody hand, the other hand keeping pressure on Serra's stomach. He dopes her and then inserts the tube from the bag of blood replacement, handing the bag up to Lolly behind him.

"She'll be out in a second," Simon informs Mal and Inara, and within a moment Serra's eyes droop closed. Simon calls for Kacey to carry Serra.

The young Washburn leaves Saffron to his mother and Jayne and scoops up his youngest "cousin", trying his best to ignore the blood and the fear in Lolly's eyes. He lays her limp form on the infirmary bed as Lolly hangs the blood bag on the IV stand.

"Thanks, Kacey. We have it from here," Simon tells him as Lolly gently pushes him out of the doors, closing them in his face. He meets her blue eyes, red and scared, through the glass before she turns to help her father.

Inara, Kaylee, and Ally stand at the windows, watching as Simon and River work to remove the bullet, Lolly acting as assistant. Inara's hand rests on the glass, eyes glued on the rise and fall of Serra's chest.

"Go clean up a little," his Aunt Kaylee commands gently. Kacey glances down at his blood soaked shirt and nods numbly.

"Aunt Kaylee… what happened?"

Kaylee squeezes Inara's arm and steps away from her.

"I don't know, Kacey," she admits, guiding him away from the infirmary.

"Did Aunt 'Nara shoot…?"

"Looks like it."

"And is that…?"

"Yep. Other than that, I just don' know what's goin' on, Kacey. Just change your shirt and then you can come on back down, okay?"

* * *

"Give me a reason not ta kill her," Jayne grumbles, finger itching on Vera's trigger. She is an old gun, but he keeps her in prime condition. The children of _Serenity_ are as much family to Jayne as Matty and his ma were, and he isn't going to let this little _po fu_ get away with hurting one of them.

"'Cause I'm thinkin' the captain wants the honor," Zoe tells him, putting painful pressure on Saffron's shoulder.

Mal, gun in hand again, watches Kacey sweep Serra towards the infirmary, meets Inara's eyes as she turns to follow. He understands the request in her gaze and nods his affirmation.

"No, Zo'," he says, coming over to crouch in front of a panting Saffron, her eyes glazed with the pain. "Her fate rests in my wife's hands, an' I'm thinkin' that whether or not Mei-Mei makes it is gonna be pretty crucial to her decision."

"Your whore," Saffron hisses, "Already shot me."

Zoe increases the pressure. "You really wanna start insulting the woman's gonna decide whether you live or die?"

"If you were still clingin' to bygones, you should've come directly to me, _dong ma_?" Mal says roughly, ignoring the pain in his knees.

Saffron laughs harshly.

"This isn't about you… I saw your daughter and immediately started thinking about why I'd lost everything. Your _wife_," she says with contempt. "After my year in the penitentiary, my face was all over the 'verse, a warning about being conned. My life was over. Serra was my ticket off this rock. Not a bad little thief, you know? It was just icing that I'd be able to throw it in the face of her mother."

"Why ain't we killin' her?"

"Not yet, Jayne."

"I'm gonna go check on Serra. She moves a muscle, Jayne, shoot 'er in the other shoulder."

"With pleasure, Mal."

Mal stands, only grimacing slightly at his creaking knees. When he enters the common area, Ally leaves Inara's side and hands him a wet towel, gesturing to his hands. He nods his thanks, but hesitates in washing the blood off, instead leaning on the wall next to Inara, watching Simon suture the wound.

Inara reaches for his sticky hand, threading her fingers through his. He gives a gentle squeeze in return, then tugs her over to him, lets her bury her face in his chest. She doesn't cry, just slips her arms around him and continues to keep her eyes locked on Serra. He wants to reassure her that everything will be okay, but he saw all that blood on the cargo bay floor.

"I've had worse," he says lamely.

She doesn't say: "But she doesn't have as much blood to spare…"

Some things can go unstated.

"So… 'Liance pen', huh?"

"Mal… Not now…"

Serra's breathing continues evenly, steadily, giving Mal hope.

* * *

"Alright, darlin'. It's your call, completely," Mal says in a low voice. They're in the doorway of the cargo bay, having just come from a sleeping Serra's side in the infirmary. They're looking at Saffron, who sits silently against a crate as Simon sutures her shoulder and Kacey keeps a gun trained on her. "Give the word, and she'll be off the boat. Dead or alive, whichever you prefer."

His voice is deadly serious; he's given the decision to Inara, because she made the shot, because Saffron's here for revenge on her.

"Killing her is too merciful. Have Simon finish, and leave her." Inara turns her wide, tired eyes to Mal. "I know you and Serra have your issues, Mal, but I can't do this anymore. I can't be ripped apart by the two of you constantly hurting each other. Find some sort of common ground, please. For me."

"We'll talk, 'Nara, I promise."

"I'm going to go sit with Serra for little longer," Inara nods with a gentle smile, reaching up to brush a kiss across his scruffy cheek. "Just get her off our home."

"Yes, ma'am," Mal says softly as she leaves him with a squeeze on his arm. Some days, he still doesn't understand how he ever got lucky enough to get her back a second time.

* * *

Serra's eyes flicker a few times and open. Mal's head snaps up.

"'Morning, baby-mine," Mal says, voice thick, brushing hair up off her forehead. "How're you feelin'?"

Serra's tongue feels sluggish, and she works it against the roof of her mouth to take away the numbness. "Like _go se_."

"Nice to know you've not lost your sense of humor."

"Mama," Serra sleepily half-smiles. Inara squeezes her hand with a watery grin.

"Simon says you're going to be fine, baby. But you'll be recovering for a while."

Serra makes a face. "Saffron?"

"Locked up tight for now. Your mama pulled off a nice bit o' sharp-shooting."

Serra coughs a little, and Inara lifts a cup of water to her dry lips, letting her drink some. The coughing subsides.

"You shot her?" Serra asks, pride in her eyes.

Inara looks away from her momentarily, putting on a weak smile. "Yes, Mei-Mei."

"How long've I been out?"

"A day or so," Mal answers.

The girl scrunches her face up, shifting uncomfortably.

"Do you need something for the pain, Serra? I'll get Simon."

"Thanks, Mama," Serra grimaces, settling against the infirmary bed. Inara breezes out of the room. "I got shot, huh?"

Mal smiles tightly. "Again. Worse this time."

"Wasn't my fault, though. This time."

"You could make that claim."

"Hey, there was no provoking. Bitch shot me out of no where."

Mal lets out a dry laugh. "Yeah. Guess that was the way of it. Ready to talk about your jail time?"

"Nope, but I probably don't have a choice," she grimaces again.

"How 'bout we start with the charges?"

"Theft," Serra chuckles painfully. "Funny thing, though. I didn't do it."

"That time."

Serra concedes with a nod. "That time. Uncle Fahmy booked me and Sue Ling passage on a commercial liner back to Sihnon from Londinium. Met Aunt Noor, you know? Interesting lady. Doesn't look a thing like Mama."

"Huh. Really?"

"Nope. Much more like _lao lao_."

"Gonna get back to the point?"

Serra shoots him an annoyed glare, which brings a little thrill to the father. She's getting back to herself quickly.

"Anyway… some fancy lady's jewelry went missing. Feds weren't so happy that I didn't have a Core ident card. I was the only Rimmer on the boat. Guess who got charged and arrested?"

"Never mind that you're a Serra, and were sittin' right next to your Core-born, aristocrat cousin," Mal sighs, chest hurting.

"That shouldn't matter," Serra bites back. "Seventy-five percent of my fellow inmates were Rim folk coming Coreward to find work. Only half of them had been tried already. If Fahmy weren't a Core lawyer, I would've rotted in that hellish cell for years before they bothered to get me before a judge. It's not right."

"No, baby-mine, it ain't." He understands her hurt, her frustration. He's felt it all before. "But Serra, you weren't raised to think this 'verse is fair…"

"If the Alliance feels it is necessary to extend its hold on the Rim planets, the least they could do is afford them equal rights."

"You're too gorramn smart for your own good," he says, heartbroken for her.

"I've thought of that before. Don't worry," she coughs, wincing, "I don't blame it on you."

* * *

"Mei-Mei, why must you always go off and get shot?"

"Watch the attitude, Bubba," Serra shoots back, her grin almost returned to normal as Simon begins to slowly wean her off the drugs. "If I don't keep getting shot, you won't have anything to do when you get back to _Serenity_."

Abe's eyes widen over the Cortex screen. "That's not even funny, Serra."

"It is, a little. You have to admit."

"Mei-Mei…"

"Kacey's leaving for six months," Serra says suddenly, eyes darkening.

"Lolly said something about that."

"And Zoe and Wash will be settling, dirt-side, as soon as he's back. Kaylee and Simon are talking about going along. If not this year, then next year." She pauses, looks down and swallows, then looks up again. There's a world of hurt in her eyes as she continues, "Ally's settling on New Hall as soon as we get close enough for the trip to be feasible."

"Mei-Mei… Change happens. We're outgrowing _Serenity_. She'll be all yours soon."

"I don't want her if it means everyone has to leave."

"Well, our dad's almost as resistant to change as you are, so it'll be a while," Abe grins, lightening the mood. "We're all still a family, Mei. Distance doesn't change that. I'm still your brother, right? Sue Ling's still our cousin? And Shadow? Not living in the same place doesn't change the fact that you're with Ari, does it?"

Serra makes a face. "Actually, we're not exclusive when we're not in the same location."

"Ah. No more details, please. Is that how kids do it these days?"

"You better be glad there are weeks of space separating us, Abram Reynolds," she warns, raising her pillow with her right arm.

"Okay, okay. Sorry. Eila says get better soon."

"So how is the girlfriend?"

"Still the girlfriend. Funny how that monogamy thing works."

Serra sticks her tongue out at him. "I'm going to keep a tab of how many times I have to hit you next time I see you."

"How about you just focus on healing properly, _dong ma_?"

"Fine. When are you coming home next?"

There's only a hint of desperation.

"Autumn term is over in a month, so I'll be meeting y'all wherever you are then."

"Okay. I miss you, Bubba. Don't tell anyone I said that."

"I think they all know."

"Yeah, well, reputation and all that."

"Stay safe, okay? And try to get along with Dad. You two are going to kill Mama with all your fighting. And do you want to make it any harder for the two of them?"

"Stop worrying. They're going to be shiny."

"I'm going now. Love you. Get better."

"Love you."

The connection cuts out on his end, and Serra puts the handheld screen on the table beside the couch in her parents' shuttle that currently serves as her bed.

"Tea, Mei-Mei?"

"Yes, please," she sighs sleepily, settling back against her pillows. "Mama's got you serving tea now, huh?"

Her father rolls his eyes, putting a tray with a teacup and pot on the table and pouring her a cup.

"What's our next stop?"

"I was thinking, after we drop this load on Beylix, we'd head out to Shadow, take a break quick. But, uh, no boys, _dong ma_?"

"Daddy…"

"Well, okay. Your cousins can come visit."

Serra pats her father's cheek as he sits on the edge of the couch next to her legs. "You like Ari. Try to remember that."

Mal sighs. "Look, you might be mostly grown, but I don't gotta like it. So just… don't flaunt it. Or talk about it. Ever."

"Alright, old man."

"Brat."

El fin


End file.
